


Undeserving

by greentintedglasses



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Not Happy, Pre-Volume 4 (RWBY), Qrow swears a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greentintedglasses/pseuds/greentintedglasses
Summary: Set sometime before the Fall of Beacon, a late night conversation spurred by concern on either side reveals a great deal but ultimately accomplishes little.





	Undeserving

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a couple days after a surge of inspiration, because apparently I hate my own happiness. Not really beta'd.  
> Ozpin and Qrow are disasters. If you think Oz shouldn't be apologizing after Volume 6 then you might not like this. If you think Ozpin would be bitter at the main cast after Volume 6 then you really might not like this.
> 
> I swear I love them both.

**“I’ve recently discovered I’m the reason why I can’t have nice things.”**

Brown eyes glance upwards to gaze at the man sprawled in the chair across from his desk. It’s late. That doesn’t stop Ozpin from balancing both paperwork and providing company to a drunken bird. Strangely enough, these are the first few words out of him since the headmaster picked him up outside the tavern (outside of the odd grumbled yeses and nos).

Oz flourishes the fountain pen in his hand before setting it down, lacing his fingers together. **“I’d have to agree,”** he responds lightly. The incredulous half glare he receives in return almost makes him regret answering.

**“You have a long standing habit of not allowing yourself to have them.”**

Almost. Unfortunately, perhaps, for Qrow, the subject’s been bothering him a little. Besides, if the other huntsman is going to bring himself up as the rare subject of conversation, Oz isn’t going to let the opportunity slide. Taking a breath to prepare and press further, Ozpin stops suddenly as a snort rings out.

**“Oh. That’s fucking _rich_  coming from you.”**

**“I beg your pardon?”**  It’s his turn to be incredulous, and more than a little lost. Oz watches with a furrowed brow as the other man readjusts himself in the chair, sitting upright before just offering a shrug.

 **“You never let yourself have nice things, nice anything. Not really. For no good reason too.”**  Ozpin feels something in him bristle.  **“Least I have an excuse.”**

 **“Your semblance?”** The reply is short, curt, heavily dripping in sarcasm. Honestly.

 **“That among other things,”**  Qrow replies before raising his hands,  **“And I fucking know what you’re going to say so don’t bother.”**

 **“Oh do you?”**  The tone is sharp, pointed before the headmaster catches himself sighs.  _Calm down, he’s drunk and on the defensive_. A pity, it seems like this won’t be going anywhere after all. He picks up the pen again,  **“Very well then, I won’t say another word.** ” A petty reply perhaps, but it’s better not to fuel the fire in these instances. 

 **“Fine!”**  Qrow shoots back, temper flaring regardless, but it can’t last forever.  **“Means you won’t interrupt me or try changing the subject like you always do.”**  Hm? Oh. He’s still stuck on Oz’s circumstances then. Very well. Fluidly, he starts writing again, pointedly ignoring the huntsman. 

Qrow will say his piece, probably something about how he’s never sticking up for himself, or getting out enough, or taking the time to rest or relax and then he’ll promptly burnout. It will probably even end with a grumble saying ‘see you’re not even defending yourself now’, and the clear vision of it all in his mind’s eye- the familiarity- almost makes him smile. 

(It’s endearing, the thought behind the outbursts, but it’s all unnecessary. He’s fine.)

At first, it all plays out exactly the way Ozpin predicts, though the huntsman curiously doesn’t seem to be running out of steam. Still, it’s easy enough to tune out all the arguments he’s heard before. Qrow’s words go in one ear and out the other, but after a few minutes his voice starts fading back in- long after he should’ve given up and passed back out in his chair. Instead, a hand suddenly slams onto the desk- almost making him ruin the words he’s been scrawling in the process.

Startled brown eyes look up to meet blazing red, and something in the headmaster’s stomach drops.

**“You cut yourself off from everyone!”**

Where is all of this coming from? Even drunk, the other’s never been this irate, this insistent on arguing- or at least arguing directly with him. For a split second a chill runs down Ozpin’s spine as he considers the worst case- No. No. He can’t know. He wouldn’t still be here.  _Focus_.

 **“The loneliest Gods-damned man in Remnant because you make yourself that way!”**  Qrow continues, not recognizing anything other than the apparent return of Oz’s attention. He pounds a fist to his chest.  **“I used to think _I_  was before I realized it, and sure ‘secrets’ and ‘living for so long’ and being ‘cursed’, but you *never* let yourself close to *anyone*.”** The man’s gestures are rapid with a certain edge the wizard can’t place.  **“Like I’ve been trying, really _trying_ since I fucking figured it out and I still don’t think I’m anywhere close to pinning you down.” **Finally the bird takes a moment to breathe, taking an unsteady sip from his flask, but it’s all the headmaster can do to piece together the argument so far, never mind trying to actually interject, before Qrow starts up again.

 **“You push people away and never tell them anything they don’t have to know. And I know I’m in the dark, whatever, but- but it’s like you’re scared.”**  Scared?  **“Of knowing them and then losing them or causing them to die just by getting involved in the only fight that really seems to matter.”** No, no. He’s long since gotten used to the casualties of war. Maybe the other reads that thought off of his expression, because the next words tumbling out of his mouth are:   **“I remember. I remember You after Summer.”**

Ah. Ozpin feels blood draining out of his face.

 **“You put up a strong front for us sure- looked us right in the eyes. But you weren’t seeing us. I remember: It’s it’s like you were looking straight past us or or at different people entirely. It’s like you were there but in front of me- but sometime else. You didn’t eat for days. I know you didn’t.”** Certainly, Qrow knew some, more than the wizard expected, the fasting, he’ll give him that, but not everything. The sleepless nights and days, endlessly recording the numerous ways it could’ve been avoided, a personal chastisement. Mentally, he tries to shake the memories. It doesn’t matter. One moment of weakness. A mere reminder of the stakes. He recollects himself.

**“Or maybe, maybe you’re scared of having them walk away, like Raven did, feeling betrayed because you’re lying.”**

The pen in his hands snaps, blood running ice cold. He doesn’t- no he couldn’t know.  _He couldn’t know_. But now there’s silence. There’s just quiet where Qrow’s words are supposed to fill the air, and part of Ozpin pleads for him to start talking again- to continue the thought, to renounce it, to press it and damn him where he sat-  _anything_. 

The other man just rubs at his face, frustrated before locking eyes once more and all Oz sees is his fear reflected back. It becomes clear, the edge to Qrow’s tone and actions he couldn’t place before.

**“And you could be lying! I don’t fucking know!”**

Desperation.

 **“I don’t. I wouldn’t have a godsdamned clue about it if you were if you have been and that fact bothers at me all the fucking time, like a fucking alarm.”**  

The huntsman is visibly struggling now, either with words or with the crossroads he’s just presented them both. A quiet voice inside of Ozpin begs for this to stop. To set the bird free. To let him know. But something the old man remembers as fear places a vice grip over his throat, his heart. He can’t. He should. _He can't._ His mouth tries to open anyway-

**“But I drown it out.”**

Suddenly Qrow shakes himself out of it.

 **“I do it because I trust you anyway.”**  He laughs. Oz doesn’t. Something in him curls tight.  **“Goes against every instinct they brought me up with, but I _want_ to believe you.”** the desperate gestures are back.  **“In *us*! That we’re doing the right thing! I really think you’re a good person-”**  He’s not.  _He’s not-_  “ **And I put my faith in that. Because at the end of the day you care, Oz. You care. You try to distance yourself from it, and I guess I can’t blame you after, what, centuries of this?”**  A half laugh again.  **“Of dealing with our shit? Of losing progress… losing people, but you care. You care about them, about humanity. I know you do. Not just because you have to. Not because of the fucking curse.”**   _Don’t._   **“Hell even without it. You’d be helping us against her anyway. Because that’s who you are.”**

 _Please_ , Ozpin quietly begs, eyes no longer able to look at this earnest display, but unable to tear away from the other’s,  _Stop._

And miraculously, he does. The fire in his eyes finally dies down, having said everything it can.  Ozpin finally recognizes what this all is, a drunken last ditch effort to reach his heart by exposing everything bottled up in Qrow’s own. It’s all there, and he recognizes the doubt and fear starting to cloud the other man’s face in the aftermath. Something in him crumbles.

**“Qrow.”**

The younger man shrinks away at his name. It’s too late. Despite Oz’s slip, the olive branch offered, be it a mistake to offer or not- he is already withdrawing.

 **“Haha, what, what am I doing?”**  Qrow takes a step back, quietly chastising himself.  **“Drunkenly raving at my fucking boss.”**  A bitter laugh at himself, as always.  **“Like a fucking dumbass.”**  Burying his face, Qrow collapses back into the chair.  **“Fuck.”**

It stings, to so clearly hear and see how much the bird despises himself. Especially when, now more than ever, Oz regards him as one of the better souls he’s ever met. Semblances and fates be damned.

It was a valiant attempt. Ozpin wants to say as much. It’s so much more than the immortal deserves- ever will deserve. This effort… the companionship continually offered him over and over that he’s just starting to fully see. But what would come of it, truly?

All these years, all this time, it should’ve taught him something. It should’ve underlined the sole truth offered him: _“Where you seek comfort you will only find pain.”_   Above all else at least, he must spare the other from it. Aha, but Qrow, defying every expectation as always, almost makes him think it could be different. That it’s not already set in stone.  

**“I’m.. sorry, Oz. I-”**

How dangerous. 

 **“It’s fine. We’re both very tired after all. Perhaps we should rest?”** It’s a horrible proposal, to erase everything said, heartfelt as it was, from the record. At least officially. (Ozpin’s sure the words will haunt him for months.. if not years… even lives.) Yet, it’s the kindest thing the headmaster can provide them both.

 **“…Yeah,”**  comes the murmur,  **“Yeah I guess.”**

And, as obliging of his cruel and unfair ways as always, Qrow accepts.


End file.
